When all is said and done

Yesterday I had a wonderful afternoon with a German friend bumming around Olympiapark. The last two days have been beautiful weather. I wanted to go up Olympiaturm, the Olympic tower, and take one last good look at the Alps--the weather was perfect for it, not a cloud in the sky, clear horizon.

It's been a weekend of Abschiedpartys (farewell parties) and packing--insane amounts of packing. I'm quite proud of myself. I need to do several loads of laundry and dutifully was there when the Getränksverkauf was open so that I could buy my Waschenmarken--otherwise I would have to wait until tomorrow evening, and that wouldn't be good. I fly out Thursday in the Insane Hours of the Morning and Wednesday is my Wrapping Things Up Day.

I'm quite shocked how much Germany has grown on me. Living in an essentially socialist society has been very enlightening for me. I wouldn't ever prefer it to the rough-and-tumble unchecked individualism of the United States, I don't think, but I can see how it appeals. (Here is a very interesting article that appeared in The New York Times Magazine which does a good job of explaining a European socialist country, and has remarkable similiarites to what I have observed here in München. Going Dutch: How I Learned to Love the European Welfare State) People here would never go so far as American niceness, but they do care about each other to some degree, as long as it does not interfere with the lives of others. Though Germany, in my opinion, lacks what I would call universal standard handicapped access, there is never a lack of hands to pull a person in a wheelchair over the steps into a store, to open a door for a woman on crutches, to call the ambulance when someone needs it. It is hardwired into small children (I have seen this collective cultural training in action) to always mind that your own things never interfere with someone else's business. When I think of something really American that would rise the collective German ire, I think of things like huge automobiles and double parking--Americans are not very respectful of another's literal and metaphorical space--probably because we have had the luxury of not having to be. But Germans are very aware where that line between You and Me is and everyone does what they can to preserve the sanctity of that line.

But socialism, for all its wonders, continuously hinges on a lot of factors that don't always coordinate nicely together: payers-in and payers-out of the system. Germany, for all its Kindergeld (the monies new parents receive per child from the government) efforts, is still growing older, and every year 100,000 immigrants come into the country. Socialism also makes what I think can be a disasterous mistake of assuming homogeneity, and can make it very difficult for outsiders to integrate into the culture and the system. These thoughts aren't clear at all, but I feel like in America it's way easier for foreigners to integrate, partly because we aren't assuming that we're all playing by the same rules that socialism demands.

I'm packing up (moving countries is no easy feat), and the room is slowly gaining some sense of Ordnung. Tomorrow will be my last full day in Germany, and I will get up at an Ungodly Hour on Thursday to catch my 7AM flight to Paris, Paris--Houston, Houston--my hometown. In Paris I will be subjected to the mandatory taking alllll my liquids out, practically undressing, and taking my laptop out and taking my shoes off while clutching to my passport and boarding pass for dear life, or, the ritual we call "Security." Oh, so it goes.

Today the JYM group flight left, taking a good chunk of the students with them. I'm trying to keep my spirits up. I'm ready to go back, I've had this adventure and feel even more emboldened to go on to new ones (after navigating daily life in a second language, everything else pales in comparsion! No more having to look up vocabularly words and explain in cumbersome, 7-year-old German what you're after). I've had quite a few San Antonio deja-vu moments, and it shocks me to think I will return to Trinity. But I'm also sad and sentimental about the time here. I think back to my arrival and I realize I didn't even know what I was in for at all, and I'm amazed how well I did, and that I did this at all.

Thanks for all your generous love and thanks for all the fun
Neither you nor I are to blame, when all is said and done. --ABBA

Photo: Lion of Bavaria holding shield which you rub for luck (glück), Odeonsplatz.

"Good Times In . . . Munich"

(Note: first of several blog updates. I am working in reverse, so that the blog retains a sense of chronology.)

My friend Kim from Trinity came to visit me at the end of her study abroad experience in Seville, Spain. She came just at the culmination of StuStaCulum, which is basically a four-day festival held out in the quad, with different bands playing each night, LOTS, and I mean, LOTS of beer being sold, tents and shops and food set up throughout the entire StuSta area. It was quite interesting. Many bushes were violated due to lack of public toilets---I'm not really sure why they didn't set up any port-a-potties. Another cultural oddity, it seems.

I showed Kim the sights and quite wore her out--we went to Marienplatz, Odeonsplatz, Hofgarten, etc. It was very interesting to hear Kim's experiences in Spain, and especially to hear how Spain compared to Germany. She was quite shocked when I took her to Münchner Freiheit right after she got in on a Thursday night around 11:30 and the place was as dark as time primordial--in Spain, they're just getting out. Or, as Kim said, "Even old people are out at this time in Spain!" (We ended up eating at McDonald's, open until a Spanish- American-friendly 2 a..m.) Kim took to Germany, though, and was surprised how well everyone spoke English, "practically with American accents," she said. Also she liked the cleanliness of Munich and the notable absence of street beggars and homeless people. I took her to get ice cream at Cafe Münchner Freiheit, which has the best ice cream ever.

However, for some reason, we just ran into a lot of negative Germans that day. The lady at the ice cream shop thought I didn't pay for my ice cream, when I did, and gave me a suspicious sidelong glance when I told her I had already paid. We rented a paddle boat in the Englischer Garten (tons of fun! And 5 euros for 30 minutes), and when we pulled back up to the pier, with Kim screaming, "I'm so bad at parallel parking!" we had one of the men working there take our photo of us in the boat, who did it without so much as twitching a facial muscle. Then, we were walking back into the entrance for StuSta (and also StuStaCulum, which required a 4 euro Eintritt), and I walked by (since I was going to my dorm, where I lived, and not headed toward the StuStaCulum festival at all) and this girl got up and accosted me, saying, "Hey, you, are you buying a ticket?" And I said, "I'm going to Blaues Haus." Point to blue house. "I live there. Do you need to see my student I.D. or my key?" She ignored this and looked at Kim. "And you?" I said, "She's visiting me." The girl just walked back to her post without a single apology. The entire encounter was very gruff and abrasive. I miss American openess (I won't say "friendliness," because that varies from region to region, but I mean a tendency to be a lot less suspicious of people.) a lot and get the feeling the Germans just aren't my people. Actually, I know they aren't.

We went to Hofbräuhaus the last night we were together, where we ran into a huge group of American students studying abroad in Florence who were sitting next to us. They were very drunk, but, due to this, were quite friendly, more than usual. I will give props to our dirndl-clad waitress: I gave her the payment for our meal while Kim was in the restroom, and this guy was eyeing my table and the waitress just looked up at him and barked, "Sie bleibt doch!" (She's staying there!) I caught her eye and I felt a wave of womanly simpatico between us.

Kim and I had a great time, though. I took her down to Starnberg Lake for the mountains-and-lake experience, and we got to hang out and swap stories of being abroad in Europe. All the friends I've encountered abroad, I can see how it's changed them for the good--made them stronger people, because I know we've all run into the same sorts of issues and been forced to resolve them ourselves. I'm glad study abroad has become de rigeur in America, especially at schools like Trinity, where a good portion of the students do study abroad.

Photo: Fire dancers at the last night of StuStaCulum.